


We haven't the light you hold to see (221B)

by thechosennerf



Series: Song of the Open Road [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock - Fandom, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Angsty Schmoop, Gen, Homelessness, Kidfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-06
Updated: 2012-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-29 01:55:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/314575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thechosennerf/pseuds/thechosennerf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a cold train station platform, Mycroft holds his brother and stares at the sky.</p><p>Part 1 of my Song of the Open Road series of 221b ficlets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We haven't the light you hold to see (221B)

‘H’much longer d’we got to wait, Mycroft?’ Sherlock asks, one hand covering his mouth. Mycroft makes a note; Sherlock’s cough is worsening. Something to be sorted as soon as sorting things out is a possibility, rather than a fantasy.

‘Do we have to wait,’ he corrects absently, one hand resting on Sherlock’s head while his eyes scan the platform for guards and other well meaning, meddling adults. ‘Not long. We’ll get the earliest train. If we find father, we’ll be sleeping somewhere warm tonight.’

The six-year-old’s gaze meets his, piercingly curious. The unwavering trust he sees there hurts more than he thinks he can bear. ‘They’ll have toast there?’ he asks, quietly hopeful.

Mycroft manages a grin. ‘All the toast you want.’

‘Toast…’ Sherlock says, voice muffled and face shoved into Mycroft’s side, wiggling a bit to get comfortable. Mycroft waits until the child’s body relaxes in sleep before he dares to stretch out a little.

Sighing, he pulls the coat more tightly around his brother, usually graceful fingers clumsy from the chill. He knows he can’t risk Sherlock’s health with another night outdoors. He banishes images of their imminent separation from his head.

He’ll have to tell him in the morning, Mycroft decides, and stares at the horizon, hoping for the sun’s warmth, but willing the dawn not to break.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Thriving Irony's 'Alien'. Series title from Walt Whitman's poem of the same name.


End file.
